


Merry Christmas, Sir

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Het, Lingerie, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know it is not anywhere near Christmas at the moment but a small tale of Anthea giving Mycroft his Christmas present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Sir

The doorbell rang loudly, a piercing shrill in his ears that had actually made him jump slightly. Mycroft wondered who could be at the door as he had not been expecting anyone; In fact, no one generally visited his home. After all, his was not the demeanour that inspired friends or casual acquaintances to ‘pop’ round.

He glanced at his mobile phone lying on the table at his side. It was dark, indicating that no one had tried to contact him. Normally work would have rang if they required his assistance or if any developments had come to light. Sherlock was…well, Sherlock was safely tucked up in Baker Street with John, Mrs Hudson, Molly and Lestrade. They would be sipping wine, popping crackers, and making his brother listen to cheerful Christmas tunes. Mycroft grinned inwardly at the thought of his brother’s discomfort; he did like to tease him so. It would not be Sherlock at the door anyway, as he could not recall the last time his brother visited him of his own violation; mummy had practically dragged him last time.

Sighing, Mycroft rose gracefully from his chair and headed towards the door. He opened it to find someone completely unexpected on his doorstep, her breath fogging in the winter night sky.

‘Anthea?’ he said, a little puzzled. What on earth was she doing here?

‘Sir,’ she replied curtly. 

He searched her face, she seemed…nervous? His mind raced running through all possibilities. Work? No they would have called ahead first. Even if for some reason they had not, he could see Anthea’s own car parked in his driveway, she came here on her own time, not business. Coerced? Was she being used to get inside his home, a friendly face before some sort of attack, there was that business with Moriarty...Hmmm, Anthea appeared unhurt and scanning the darkness behind her he could see no signs of anyone else, nor the feeling of anyone watching. He was confident that the security system of his home would have picked up anything unusual, as essentially The British Government; he was afforded the best protection. Perhaps she was resigning and came to hand tell him personally out of some semblance of sentimentally to her boss?

He realised they had been standing opposite one another for some time and that he was rude leaving her on the cold doorstep. Regaining his manors Mycroft opened the door wide gesturing her forwards, uncertainly, into his home.

‘Please come in.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

Mycroft closed the door behind her, locking it securely before turning and following Anthea through the hallway to the study in which he had been sitting. Before the interruption, Mycroft had been lounging in his favourite high-backed chair beside a logged fire, reading a book and sipping and expensive and delicious cognac. He asked if he could take her coat but she declined with a small shake of her head. He finally indicated a vacant chair to his P.A before easing himself into his own. 

‘Drink?’ he enquired as he held up his half-drunk glass of brandy. Again, Anthea gently shook her head no.

Mycroft rested and elbow on the arm of his chair before placing his chin in the palm of his hand, scrutinising the woman before him. There was definitely something wrong. He watched her gaze nonchalantly around his home before he enquired as to how he could help, her head snapped back around in his direction.

‘Well, I-I came to give you your Christmas present.’

He deliberated; they had never exchanged gifts for any reason, not at Christmas nor even Birthdays for that matter. Mycroft found the whole process pointless, boring and over sentimental. He would have to waste time and effort searching for a gift, while estimating the nature and worth of the gift he was likely to receive from said individual and equate that with his own so as to not appear either far too generous or miserly. It was highly unlikely anyone would come to the correct conclusion of an item he desired and present him with it. There would be forced cheeriness, the expectation of polite chit chat, and the fawning thanks for a gift that was certainly to end up in the bin by the end of the night…

‘Why?’ His voice was distant; he did not fully understand where this was coming from.

Anthea shrugged noncommittally. ‘You said you were doing nothing over the festive period and were not expecting presents.’

The man snorted and sneered at her, ‘And you felt, what? Sorry for me?’ 

His P.A said nothing and simply looked at him with the same expression she often had in work; bored exasperation at his tantrums.

He rolled his eyes before raising his eyebrow as he sarcastically drawled, ‘Believe me Anthea, I neither desire nor expect anyone to feel empathy for me. There is nothing for anyone to feel sorry for. I am not moping here alone and depressed. I do not see the point of engaging in social festivities just because an emperor and his bishops, many hundreds of years ago, decided on the date for the birth of the son of God. Don’t even get me started on the holes I can pick into religious theory.’ 

Anthea rolled her eyes, equally as mocking. ‘I was not feeling sorry for you. If there is anyone that deserved to be old and alone it will be you if you continue to be so bitter.’ 

She smiled sweetly at him. He was reminded why he liked his employee. She was brilliant at her job, she was never afraid to challenge him and he enjoyed their occasional mocking banter. This, however; her reason for being here, was just not her.

‘I admit myself surprised that you are not celebrating the festivities with family or friends.’ 

He was hitting on a sore point and he knew it. Anthea’s family had been checked thoroughly due to the nature of their positions within government. Her family was almost as dysfunctional as his own but friends? She had many. She was constantly glued to that phone of hers that he half-jokingly suggested surgical removal to her once, and on more than one occasion he spotted the tell-tale signs of bleary eyes and the rattle of an aspirin bottle on mornings she had clearly had a wild night out. Anthea even had personal effects on her desk; bright, happy, smiling photos of people waving at the camera. Mycroft, however, did not believe in littering his office with tat.

She turned her eyes from him this time, not meeting his gaze, ‘Let’s just say there is no one I would want to spend Christmas with. Watching them get drunk or being forced to snog under mistletoe or eat over cooked, dry turkey while wearing silly paper hats and pulling crackers does not sound at all fun.’

Well it would appear her thoughts on the season mirrored her own, he mused, but what was she doing here and why a present for him? He scanned her body. Anthea had not carried any parcel into his home and had no bag that he could see. Her black wool coat fell to her knees but Mycroft could see no tell-tale lumps or bulges where a package could be concealed, or any outline of such in her coat pockets. 

The older Holmes was trying to spot something out of place when he suddenly noticed her entire appearance. It was all out of place. She was very well dressed come to think on it. Her hair was arranged in a different stylish way, her make up artful: certainly more than she wore every day to work. Her long black frock coat was dressy, her legs clad in sheer black tights and she had high black stilettos that had clicked sharply all the way down his hall.

The dawning realisation where this was going had just hit him when she opened her coat letting it shrug to the floor. Any response he had been planning on making died in his throat as he beheld the sight in front of him. It would appear that Anthea was not wearing much underneath. Not very much at all. Mycroft gulped, no wonder she did not want him taking her coat at the door.

A black bodice pushed her cleavage up alarmingly, she was wearing the most girly and frilliest pair of black knickers he had ever seen, stocking s and suspenders finished the look. He grinned with amusement. She had tied a red ribbon around her waist in a Christmas bow. Mycroft leaned back in his chair laughing and nodding to the bow, ‘nice touch.’ He could not believe the absurdity of the situation.

Anthea chuckled at him before gliding forward towards his chair. She stopped just a few feet away, almost touching distance; he could now make out slight goosebumps on her skin. Well, he mused, it must be chilly with practically nothing on.

‘Merry Christmas, Sir,’ She said as she gave him a small smirk.

He could only stare back at her fully aware his mouth was likely to be hanging open. She wasn’t serious? Where had this come from? They had never even been a hint of that kind of relationship between them; in fact, engaging in such could probably get them both fired.

Anthea held up a hand. ‘Let’s make things clear.’ His eyebrows shot up, my, my, bossy.

‘Christmas present only. We are not lovers, we are not in any kind of relationship, we return to work in the New Year and resume our working relationship. I will not be your girlfriend, love, darling, pet or anything else. You address me as Anthea, as always. You do not touch inappropriately and if you try anything funny or think you can bully me or have me as your toy, I will hit you.’

Mycroft opened his mouth at her tirade and closed it again without comment. This was far too…bizarre was the only word he could think of right now.

‘So,’ he finally drawled, ‘you only want sex? A one night stand, as they say? This is our…Christmas present, to one another?’

She smiled at him, apparently he had finally grasped onto her meaning. He didn’t quite know what to say. They could be fired for their liaison. Statistically the probability they could return to their previous working relationship was unlikely.

He wracked his eyes over her body appreciatively. She was certainly stunning. Anthea had looks and the figure any man would appreciate, he observed more than one co-worker staring at her at work, a few even dared to make some crude off hand comments. Although that had quickly stopped when one of the more persistent fellows received a knee to the groin, Anthea’s fury, when unleashed, was a beautiful thing to behold.

Mycroft certainly knew what he was getting out of this situation but wondered what she was. He knew he must have a good 15-20 years on her and while his looks were…unconventional, he did manage to facilitate several sexual partners when the mood struck him. But she did seem, what was the phrase so commonly used? Out of his league?

‘Forgive me for sounding, reluctant but, why? Or rather, why me? You could walk into any bar in London and get whatever you want.’

Anthea seemed to consider, idly fingering the red bow at her waist. For some reason (likely her offer his brain mocked him), Mycroft was now fascinatedly watching her fingers delicately run through the silk wondering what it would feel like and itching to reach out and touch it himself.

‘Number one, I could go for a complete stranger but you just cannot be sure where they have been. As your P.A, I know everything about you. Two, as I have said, I know many people but none I want to spend this time of year with or have a casual one night stand. Three-‘

She walked closer to his chair almost touching, trailing her index finger over his lips, down his shoulders before picking up one of his hands in hers.

-‘I am curious as to if that sarcastic and honeyed tongue of yours can do anything other than make snide comments, and these hands-‘ 

She stroked each of his fingers gently, causing him to swallow and let a breath out through his nose.

‘-you have beautiful hands, long, elegant fingers. You play the violin and the piano excellently, those fingers should be able to play me just as well.’

She gave him a naughty grin, ‘I want to see how good a lay you are,’ leaning forward slightly to purr in his ear, ‘Sir.’

Mycroft closed his eyes. Well, he had his answer then. Oh dear, for all his intelligence he thought, he really was no better than the rest of the hormonal imbeciles that litter this planet. He took a long drink from his glass knowing full well he should put a stop to this now. 

Oh what the hell, it is Christmas after all, he may as well indulge. 

Anthea took the now empty glass from between his fingers and sat it on the table before easing herself down onto his chair. She braced a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she placed her knees either side of his thighs facing him, his face was now perilously close to her breast as she bent her head to kiss him.

As their lips touched the spark of desire welled up inside him, this may just be a very good present. He had several logical arguments and reasoning as to why they should not engage in this activity but suddenly they all seemed to have vacated his usually nimble and active mind. His hands slid to her waist as he grabbed a corner of the bow and tugged until the ribbon came loose and fluttered freely to the floor. It seemed a symbolic accepting of the offer. Well, then, he thought, first shot fired.

Holmes encircled her waist in his hands kneading the flesh through her bodice as her hips pushed forward, rubbing the front of her body into his lap and stomach. Anthea slid her tongue softly into his mouth, dancing it around his own. He could taste peppermint and an undercurrent of chocolate from her and wondered what she had been eating before she arrived. Her kiss was practiced and passionate, he felt her hands slid up his shoulders into his hair. She pulled away from him grinning in amusement; he did not need a mirror to know that she had mussed up his hair.

‘I always wanted to do that.’ She grinned evilly at him while he narrowed his eyes pulling her back towards him forcefully to capture her mouth again, kissing insistently; well two can play at that game.   
The heat from her body warmed his lap and he could feel his arousal grow as her hips rolled along his groin. Mycroft pushed on her waist until she turned in the seat now facing away from him. Sat in his lap with her feet on the floor, he wrapped an arm around her waist pulling the back of her body tightly against the front of his. He bit back a moan as Anthea ground her ass into his lap, causing a delicious friction through his trousers while he attacked the back of her neck, nibbling the flesh, enjoying sinking his teeth into her soft, pale skin. He knew she was teasing him, her backside brushing his trousers over his erection as she danced and gyrated in his lap, he decided it was time to distract her.

‘You said something about honeyed tongue and elegant fingers,’ he breathed in her ear noting the shiver that ran down her spin. 

‘We will get to my mouth later, Anthea, but for now…let’s see how I can be of service.’

He slid a hand down the front of her body, brushing across the mound of her breast, her stomach, tracing along her hip before reaching the waistband of her knickers. His fingers teased the waistband along her hips, fingers sliding under briefly before pulling back out. A few minutes of teasing had her protesting loudly at her ill treatment, Mycroft smiled into the crook of her neck, this slip of a girl was not going to dictate how this was going to go.

His hand inched lower into her underwear fingers brushing gently through her folds causing her to whimper as he stroked her clit. Breathing elevated, her hips had stilled under his touch; any wriggling by her may have dislodged his fingers from the place she was currently enjoying. Mycroft circled the hard nub with ever increasing pressure, knowing she was becoming wetter with his ministrations. Anthea stretched her neck, craning to the man behind her, mouth seeking his for a deep, bruising kiss. She moaned as her body slid further down his, legs instinctively widening to try and gain more pleasure from the hand working her.  
Mycroft’s other hand pulled her thigh up, until one leg was draped across the arm of his chair, before sliding it between her legs. With long, elegant fingers stimulating her clit he pulled her panties roughly to the side with his other hand, fingers seeking the entrance to her body, noting she was extremely wet from his teasing. Anthea broke away from their kiss and cried out, back arching, as he plunged two fingers into her warm wet hole, massaging along her inner walls, looking for just the right spot.

She writhed on his lap muttering a soft ‘please’ or ‘yes’ as he used his hands to bring her to orgasm, her legs quivered, hands gripping the arms of his chair until they turned white as her body tightened around him. Anthea let out a whoosh of breath as she came down from her high and he removed his fingers from her, wet with her own cum he raised an index finger up to her mouth, shivering as she sucked the digit into her mouth. His cock twitched as she licked his fingers, sucking on the tips gently, running her dexterous tongue along them drawing such pleasure that he was convinced the head of his cock was directly connected to his hand.

She turned in his lap facing him, giving his a quick kiss in which he could taste the slightly salted muskiness from her orgasm before sliding boneless to the floor at his feet. He looked down to see his clothing disarranged where she had wiggled against the front of him, the front of his trousers stretched tight and tented from his own arousal.

Anthea placed a hand on either knee, pushing his legs apart so that she could crawl between them as he leaned back in his chair getting comfortable. She trailed hands up his long legs, fingers digging in slightly and rubbing his thighs. Mycroft’s breathing deepened as her hands circled ever higher getting towards the junction between his legs; she teasingly stopped just short, before working her hands back down to his knees. Even through the heavy cloth he could feel the slightest brush of breast as she adjusted her body before him, the smallest fiery caress, and every movement of hers only serving to arouse him more.

Her hands ascended again, he licked his lips as the back of her hand gently brushed his straining cock. He may have believed it had been an accident, until it happened again. Mycroft tried not to squirm in his seat, eager for a more direct contact but unwilling to beg or let her see she was affecting him, he wasn’t called the Iceman for nothing. Small fingers deftly undid his belt, gently tugging it open before unhooking the button at the top of his trousers. Her hand slowly, sensuously, eased the zipper down of his fly, gently pulling out the shirt tails. She reached into the opening of his boxers causing him to gasp as a warm hand closed around his erection and gave a squeeze. His hips instinctively bucked up off the chair towards her as Anthea withdrew his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Wrapping her fist around him she pumped his cock a few times, allowing his foreskin to slide back and forth, gently lubricating him with the slight drop of pre cum. She reached out with the tip of her tongue to make a tentative lick of the head; Mycroft gave a strangled noise in the back of his throat, cool grey eyes focused on her intently.

She made a longer lick up the length of his shaft, starting at his balls, running along the underside until she took the head fully into her mouth and sucked, Mycroft’s hips rose off the chair trying to impale himself further down her throat. Anthea sucked as much of him into her mouth as she could manage, lapping at him with her tongue, swirling the head as she pulled backwards before plunging down again. As she glanced up his body she could see that Mycroft’s head was thrown backwards, eyes closed, he was breathing heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She raised one hand from his thigh to wrap it around the base of his cock, timing the jerks of her hand with the movements of her head, ensuring his entire length was stimulated. One of his hands rested itself on the back of her head, offering gentle encouragement for her attentions. She hummed around his cock, sending ripples of pleasure through the swollen fresh with the vibrations in her mouth.

Suddenly, he grabbed a fist full of her hair, dragging her mouth away from him until she released it with a small wet pop. He licked his lips, taking a breath and composing himself. As delightful as it would be to come in her mouth he was eager to try other things. The older Holmes observed her cheeks flushed from her exertions, lips swollen and pink as her dilated pupils watched his every move.

‘Upstairs,’ he said, noting that his voice was a little strained even to his ears. So much for the Iceman, he thought.

She nodded gently as he released her hair. Anthea rose to her feet, a little shaky on her heels from kneeling on the floor for so long as Mycroft carefully rearranged his clothing. It was difficult given his aroused state but he managed to tuck himself back into his trousers before motioning her out the door.

He smirked as she sauntered out the door of his study and along the hall, hips swaying, her pert little ass wiggling at him as she cast a sly look over her shoulder knowing he was watching and enjoying the show. He followed her out and up the stairs in his hallway and when she stopped at the top, unsure where she was going, he told her his bedroom was the third room. Anthea headed straight for it, opening the door, not bothering to see if he was following. As he watched her from the doorway of his bedroom, she crawled onto his bed, almost like a stalking cat, crooking her finger for him to join her.

Mycroft didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, quickly, to his bedside; kneeling on it he towered over her but bent to capture her lips with his. He pushed gently on her shoulder, manoeuvring her to lie back on the bed while he covered her body with his. Both prone on the bed, Anthea reached between them and began to unsnap small hidden hooks on the front of her bodice, peeling the fabric away and revealing soft, pale breasts.

He trailed his fingers almost feather lightly up her stomach and ribs, stopping just under the curve of her breasts, enjoying her shivering under under his caress, her nipples peaking from the sensations. Anthea’s breasts filled his palms as he slid them over her, gently circling the areola with his thumbs before dipping his head down and tracing the path of his thumb with his tongue. He sucked the flesh into his mouth, biting down firmly with his teeth until she squirmed and cried out above him. He released her to find a perfect imprint of his teeth on the delicate mound of her breast.

Holmes sat back on his heels staring at the woman lying before him. It was a delicious sight, her half naked body, hair fanned around her spread on his sheets, skin hot and pink tinged from their exertions. He picked up one of her legs in his hands, cradling her ankle in one hand and taking off her shoe with the other. He discarded the heel on the floor before tickling the bottom of her foot causing her to giggle and try to wriggle away from him but he held her tight. He gently slid his fingers from her ankle, along a calf until he reached the top of her stockings. 

Mycroft unsnapped the fasteners holding it in place, massaging cool, creamy thigh flesh before rolling her stocking down her leg, sensuously slowly. One it was discarded he did the same with the other. Anthea stretched her legs up as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her knickers, tugging them down and off.

She was now naked before him and he licked his lips in anticipation. She really was a beautiful sight. Anthea sat up on the bed reaching for the buttons on his waistcoat causing him to grab her hand sharply, stilling them. He wasn’t entirely sure he would like to be undressed. Nakedness did not come easy to him; it showed casualness, informality, a degree of exhibitionism he did not particularly enjoy. He also had no reason to believe anyone would particularly desire to see him naked.

Anthea rolled her eyes at his hesitation before slapping his hands away hard and continuing her assault on his clothing. As she got his waistcoat unbuttoned fully he was about to shrug it off his shoulders when she grabbed two handfuls of shirt front and pulled him onto her. She fell back on the bed while Mycroft simply overbalance from his kneeling position and ended up collapsed on top of her. 

With a fierce yank his shirt was opened, he could hear the pinging of buttons at they hit the floor. The older Holmes narrowed his eyes at her; she had just ruined a very expensive shirt. Anthea only grinned and kissed the tip of his nose, indicating to his now exposed torso.

Mycroft could do nothing; quick as a flash she had him out of his shirt and tie before she crawled down his body to remove his shoes and socks then the belt of his trousers. He closed his eyes as she casually brushed his erection through the cloth, sending shivers down his legs. 

His trousers and underwear soon discarded. Mycroft was now naked and feeling considerable self-conscious about it. His partner seemed not to notice as she inched up his body brushing soft skin against his as she straddled his waist. His cock was trapped between them, pushing against his own and her stomach so that he could feel every writhe of her body as she braced her hands against his chest, leaning over him for a kiss.

Mycroft braced his hands on the bed and pushed himself backwards further towards the headboard until he was almost completely against it. He motioned her to follow him while indicating to his chest. Anthea looked at him, slightly confused. He placed his hands on her thighs and tugged gently pulling her up towards his face. Following his silent instructions, she gingerly placed a knee either side of his head, her bottom on his chest. As she leaned forward to steady herself on the headboard Mycroft’s nose brushed her clit and she made a small noise of pleasure before pulling back.  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. ‘You did say something about my tongue…?’

Anthea could only lick her lips and nod as he brought his hands to her hips guiding her onto him. She was hesitant at first with the unusual angle. She did not want to hurt him, or nearly suffocate him as she was practically sitting on his face. Anthea stilled, trying not to move around despite the tightening low in her body.

His tongue ran through her folds, tracing around her clit, sucking on it gently before pulling back. He could taste her as she was still wet from her orgasm downstairs. Mycroft stretched out his tongue entering her slightly while his nose delicately grazed her clit. His mouth worked her, sucking and lapping at her sensitive flesh until finally she bucked and writhed above him. Holding tightly onto the headboard at one point she was practically riding his face when suddenly she pulled away from him stating simply, ‘I need something more.’

He nodded as Anthea moved to ease herself off of him. Mycroft was quick, as she went to move he flexed upwards, practically throwing her off him. With a firm grip on her waist, he twisted, until she was face down on the bed, her small squeak of surprise lost onto the bedding. He covered the back of her body with his own, grinding his erection into her ass as he bit along her shoulder. After teasing he finally coaxed her up on all fours, arms braced against the headboard, as he positioned himself behind her.

Without preamble he took his cock in his hand, placed it at her opening and pushed himself forward completely into her warm welcoming body. Anthea threw hear head back with a throaty moan as taking her hip in his hands, Mycroft pulled out, agonisingly slowly. He withdrew almost completely before plunging back in as far as he could go. Her hips pushed back onto his in encouragement, as if he needed any, and soon his rhythm was fast and brutal. Strong hips pushed his straining cock in and out her body at incredible speed, their bodies slapping together, echoing in the room with every thrust.

Holmes could feel his own orgasm approaching so grabbed a hand full of her hair forcing her lower onto the bed, adjusting himself within her. Her face in the mattress and her backside sticking up delightfully in the air, Anthea bit into the bed sheets at the new sharper angle, she could feel him hitting the end of her with every thrust. She reached a hand under herself to massage her clit and within a few moments her body tightened, pleasure pooling in the pit of her stomach as her orgasm racked her body.

Above her, Mycroft could hear the hitch in her breath, could feel the quiver in her thighs and the tightening of her muscles around him that told him she had come. Just as well, he doubted he could have prolonged his own release for much longer, lost in the delicious feelings of her body squirming under his. He gave a small gasp as with one final thrust, he spilled himself into her.

They were both breathing heavy, sweat glistening on their bodies as Mycroft’s legs suddenly felt week and may not support him. He rolled onto the bed on his side pulling Anthea into his chest in an embrace as they both lay naked on top of his bed. He brushed his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of her as her legs entwined with his and her arms cradled his around her waist.

‘I should go,’ she murmured finally, after some time. Mycroft had just begun to doze in the warm comfort.

‘Hmmm?’

She extracted herself from his embrace and he shivered at the loss of contact and warmth from her body. He was tempted to ask her to stay, but they both knew it would have been foolish. He watched her keenly as Anthea seared for her lost clothing, trying, and failing to arrange it into some sort of neatness. She had not come in much to start with. 

He felt a little guilty at her dishevelled appearance. ‘Would you like a shower before you go to, um, clean some of the, er …stuff off you.’

She looked at him considering.

‘It is ok. I will wait until I get home.’

Mycroft only nodded. They had done what was stated and she was trying to make a quick and painless exit before the scene became embarrassing. Unfortunately they were both only drawing more to it.  
He slid of the bed, suddenly being naked in front of her, given what they had just done, was no longer uncomfortable. He rummaged at the bottom of a drawer, finally finding what he was looking for. An old sweater he used to wear when he had the bright notion of taking up the gym to help with his diet. Needless to say two weeks at a very exclusive and expensive club had not managed to convince him of the merit and he had not returned. Mycroft held it out to her. It was cold outside and at least she would leave a little more covered up.

Anthea took the offered item, slipping it over her head. It hit her mid-thigh and hung several sized too big, the sleeves stretching down to cover her hands. He smiled as she shook the sleeves back only to find them slip down again. She sighed, exasperated, as Mycroft grinned and pulled on a bathrobe.

Downstairs, he retrieved her coat from the parlour. She slipped it on over the sweater, tying it securely as he walked her to the front door. The crisp night air was becoming much lighter; Mycroft guessed it must be nearing morning. 

She turned to him as if to say something but changed her mind and headed outside. They both stood there, her on the door step looking at him with an odd expression. Mycroft knew it had not worked. The office would likely to be considerably awkward when they returned after the holidays.

Anthea nodded and gave him a small, secretive smile, ‘Merry Christmas, Sir.’

He smiled, genuinely, back, ‘you too Anthea, it has been a…pleasure.’

She walked off down his gravel drive towards her car, heels crushing nosily on the stone. He watched her go until, just at her car door; she turned back to him, grinning evilly and calling out, ‘So, Sir, what are you doing for New year?’

Mycroft chuckled, ‘Now you mention it Anthea, I doubt I will be doing anything. No doubt I will be here again, all by myself.’

She gave him a wink as she climbed into her car and started the engine. The older Holmes watched until her car disappeared from view before closing his door and heading for the bathroom, aiming for a nice long hot soak in the tub. 

Well, he mused, there was certainly worse ways to be spending the holidays.


End file.
